Shadows of the Mind
by ALC Punk
Summary: Gambit is in New York where he meets the symbiote that is Venom.


[Gambit, Venom] Shadows of the Mind Ana Lyssie Cotton  
Sep 05, 2000 01:22 PDT  
Disclaimer: Gambit and the Venom Symbiote don't belong to me. No  
money is being made.  
  
I'm hoping I wrote this accurately. So sue me, I'm tired.  
  
Dedication: ahem. Happy birthday to Rosencrantz and Em-Spider!!!  
Who share the day known to all as September the Fifth, as a  
birthday.  
  
Shadows of the Mind  
by Ana Lyssie Cotton  
  
It slithered through the night, hunting. It needed someone warm,  
someone good. Someone just right. Shadows covered it, letting it  
slip through them as it muttered inaudibly to itself.  
  
"Must find...."  
  
--  
  
The wind blew cold around him, whipping the trench out and  
exposing his jean-clad legs to the bitter cold. Remy cursed in  
N'awlins French and tried to wrap the edges around himself  
again.  
  
He hadn't wanted to be out, frankly, he would have preferred his  
warm and cozy motel room. But instead he was stuck out here.  
Playing decoy. Damned Wisdom.  
  
"Just a quick, easy job. Play decoy me, while I get the  
information I need."  
  
Yeah, right. He snorted and watched the wind whip away the smoky  
shreds of his breath. Of course, getting paid was a nice reason  
to stand out in the cold like this. Especially if it got him out  
of the X-Mansion and down into the city.  
  
New York, city of dreams, home to several hundred thousand  
disenchanted people. Even in the cold of winter, they scurried  
to and fro. Hopping on this train, going downtown to club,  
uptown to club, and the park to play. Even at night the city  
glistened with life. Remy dodged a large group of business-types  
who were obviously drunk and on their way back to their hotel.  
  
He liked the city, liked the manicness and the sense that  
anything could happen. But what he didn't like was the wind that  
whipped between the tall buildings and funneled straight into  
his face, freezing his nose and lips. With another mumbled  
curse, he pulled a small scarf out his pocket and wrapped it  
around his lower face.  
  
A pair of fingerless gloves were already on his freezing hands.  
He sighed and slipped his handsd back in his pockets, shivering  
as another gust of wind hit him.  
  
The shadows around him flittered. He blinked, then shook his  
head, ignoring it, like a good New Yorker.  
  
A few blocks away, a mugger accosted a young woman and then was  
attacked by a shadow. The shadow muttered about innocence and  
light as it killed him. The young woman fainted.  
  
Remy Lebeau was not a praying man, nor was he keen to die. But  
then, the shadows deepening around him weren't noticeable. Until  
it was too late.  
  
Pain shattered his thoughts, doubling him over and leaving him  
curled up on the concrete. Blackness swirled over him,  
chittering and mumbling as it consumed him. A moment later, or  
an eternity after, he rose and stood, shaking, feeling it like  
oil on his skin, like pinpricks in his eyes.  
  
Help. Innocence. There was something, he needed to do something.  
To help someone.  
  
And then Remy found his mind splitting, being consumed and  
destroyed. He fought back, using everything he'd ever learned  
about fighting telepathic assault. Blades ran along his nerves,  
and he bled from a dozen cuts as he fought. At least, he thought  
he did.  
  
But he wasn't. He was fine. And on the sidewalk. Remy stared  
down at his hands, noting the blood that slowly dripped to the  
dark sidewalk under his knees. He'd gripped so hard, his nails  
had cut into his palms. It was that pain which had drawn him  
back from the edge of insanity.  
  
Remy Lebeau stood, staggered, and then leaned against the nearby  
telephone pole. He was fine. Dammit. And Wisdom owed him,  
bigtime.  
  
Straightening, he stalked down the street, remembering that  
there had been a scream earlier. Earlier?  
  
And the shadows followed him, melting into his coat and boots,  
swimming around his legs and chest. Glimmering deep in his eyes.  
  
It had found someone, someone stronger than it. But it could  
wait. Didn't it already control him?  
  
Yessss.  
  
--  
  
The man was dead, neck bent at a nasty angle. The girl, on the  
other hand, was not. Remy carefully checked her pulse, then sat  
back on his heels. A glance at his watch proved it was time to  
head back and be warm, but first, the girl needed to awaken. And  
then he'd walk her home.  
  
Remy snorted, wondering when he'd suddenly gotten all  
chivalrous. Not that it mattered, he couldn't leave a young  
woman out on the street. Even if it was New York.  
  
Dark hair, medium brown skin, nice cheekbones, short build. The  
woman was cute, probably, when she was awake. Remy waited,  
knowing she couldn't be out for much longer. Hopefully.  
  
He was right. She groaned and her eyes fluttered open a moment  
later. "Oh. Ow." She flinched as she spotted him, "Who the hell  
are you?"  
  
"Remy." He stood and offered her a hand.  
  
She ignored it, struggling to her feet, and moving away from him  
as she did so. "That's nice. I'll be going now." Her eyes  
spotted the dead man. "Oh my god." The colour drained from her  
face and she looked at Remy, fear in her eyes, "I saw... the  
shadows..."  
  
"The shadows?"  
  
But she was over her fright, now, calm again, "Never mind. Thank  
you. Good night." With a dismissive nod, she turned and walked  
away from him.  
  
Remy Lebeau chuckled and sauntered after the woman, watching  
that she made it home safe. Oddly, she didn't seem to notice  
him. Although she made it home safe.  
  
--  
  
It waited as the new host took a shower, then stretched out on  
bed and flipped through the local channels. A phone call and  
discussion of payment. And then he slept.  
  
Time to go to work.  
  
--  
  
Remy woke up feeling stiff and sore and dirty. And his mouth  
tasted like something had crawled in it and died. With a moan,  
he staggered into the bathroom.  
  
"Holy..."  
  
His face was a mass of bruises as were his upper arms, fists,  
shoulders and back. His legs seemed to have escaped whatever  
beating it was he'd gone through, but the rest of him...  
  
With a wince he turned the shower on and stepped in, yelping as  
the water sluiced down onto his sore flesh. At least it was  
warm.  
  
As the water poured over him, he tried to think, tried to figure  
out what had happened. He'd gone to bed fine, and woken up  
beaten, dirty and... tired? He blinked blearily, realising that  
he was tired. As if he'd slept less than the eight hours he  
should have had by the clock.  
  
He stared at his hands, wishing he could-- "Merde." Shadows  
flowed over his hands and arms, swirling around them and sliding  
in and out of his skin. He watched in morbid fascination as the  
bruises began healing, the pain slipping away as the  
shadow-fingers moved higher up his arms.  
  
Razer-edged pain glimmered at the edge of his brain, reminding  
him of the assault the night before. The assault...  
  
Remy came to himself curled in the small bathtub, water pelting  
down on him and blood streaming from one hand. He'd punched a  
hole in the tiles, scraping his knuckles deeply. With a grimace  
about having to pay for that, too, he slowly stood and turned  
off the water.  
  
"What is going on?" He demanded aloud, stepping over to the  
mirror and staring at his bloodshot eyes.  
  
Nothing. Nothing's going on. Something whispered in his head.  
  
He stared at the mirror, then whirled to confront the figure  
standing behind him. "What are you?"  
  
Nothing was there. Except.... The shadows stared back at him.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
We are nothing. You do not see us.  
  
"Oh, but I do." Remy's clenched fist sparked pink, power running  
around it and up his arm.  
  
You should not.  
  
"Who. Are. You?" He demanded, biting every word off.  
  
We are unique. We are one. We are.  
  
"What have you done to me?"  
  
Nothing. It was done to you, to us, as we fought. Many brave,  
many innocent are safe now.  
  
The shadows chittered and slithered around him. You are safe  
now. Safe with us.  
  
Madness, he thought, it was all madness. Wasn't it? They  
couldn't talk. Shadows were shadows.  
  
'I saw... the shadows...'  
  
The shadows, which moved and writhed over him, healing the rents  
and tears in his skin and then sliding under it, into it.  
Disappearing into him.  
  
Shock rattled through him, sending him towards the bed,  
staggering.  
  
It will be all right. We are here.  
  
Would it? It would? They were here. They. Who were they? Remy  
rolled onto his stomach and stared sightlessly at the wall.  
  
The pattern was a nice, demure rose and green leaf combination,  
winding up to the ceiling. It covered most of the walls, all but  
the one where the bathroom was. That one had a light orange  
wallpaper with daisies in yellow and blue on it.  
  
Blue on orange. Sort of glaring, like red on green. Blood on  
white sidewalk, staining it deeply. Blood on his hands, on their  
hands. Evil blood.  
  
Innocent blood.  
  
No. Not innocent. They were not innocent. Hiss.  
  
Remy blinked. the shadows coalesced in front of him, hissing and  
moving agitatedly. Never innocent. Always evil blood.  
  
"You... You took over my body, my mind. We--I--you killed. Who?"  
  
No one, everyone. Only bad. No good.  
  
Remy dragged himself out of bed, shaking his head, "It doesn't  
matter. If I killed someone, they may be after me already."  
  
Safe. Is safe. We made sure.  
  
The shadows drifted closer, began wrapping around him, seeping  
into him, blanking everything out.  
  
Don't leave us.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
We are.  
  
-=finis=- 


End file.
